Recently, while nitpicking over the flaring nostrils of the bull I so foolishly antagonized while picnicking in a posted meadow, I was reminded of a post that agonized over the silence of solar flares versus the gut-numbing blasts perpetrated by the moon's many organists.

The reminder came just as a graphic representation of the same reminder was arriving in my inbox, thereby forcing me to sit up and take notice. At first, it seemed that Craig Conley had at once illuminated and amplified the sonic tendrils issuing from the aforementioned lunar organs, while the second and third glances corroborated what I had just heard and seen.

Nine organists. Nine organs. Nine fundamental frequencies. Assuming an SPF of 32, how many harmonics inhabit the average lunar flare? You do the math.